


Like A Soda Pop

by nutteu



Series: Commissions [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Iwaizumi is stupid motherfucker in love, Love Confessions, Meet-Cute, Oikawa is an insufferable wing-man, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28005381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutteu/pseuds/nutteu
Summary: This was the highest peak of Hajime Iwaizumi’s delicate springtime of life—according to Tooru, who definitely didn’t have any say in Hajime’s love life. At all. (Or, the one where Iwaizumi got overwhelmed by akouhai’s not-entirely-unwelcomed romantic advances and Oikawa did have any say in his love life, after all.) [Iwaizumi/OC; confession fic]
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Commissions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051181
Kudos: 22





	Like A Soda Pop

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is nutteu, this fic is commissioned by mba Hana (rizumary). This if my first time commissioning, I hope you enjoy it as well. Here are some links:
> 
> [rizumary's tumblr](https://rizumary.tumblr.com/); [Akeno Hana](https://rizumary.tumblr.com/post/631232985033752576/here-she-is-the-mysterious-girl-in-my-every); [the confession (visual)](https://rizumary.tumblr.com/post/635419250124783616/confession-back-when-theyre-still-a-1st-year)

It wasn’t like Hajime was completely _dense_ when it came to romantic adventures (“Iwa-chan, stop lying through your teeth, it’s not cute!”).

He had liked several people since he realized he got an abundance of hormones running through his course, and he had had people confessing to him too. But it was never often, and had never been a persistent recurrence in his life—both the liking and being liked thing. Of course he knew people liked him; his teammates respected him enough to listen to him (what happened with Tobio was—and would always be—a lesson on both sides), his classmates liked him enough to befriend him, his volleyball colleagues respected and acknowledged his skills, and his family had never failed in expressing their affections to him.

But it was starkly different than when someone _liked_ you. A romantic type of like, the one with fast heartbeats and the unbearable urge to hold their hands, or spend time with them, or smiling when they talked excitedly about their passion. The type of like that became the spotlight of “ _our delicate springtime of life_ ,” as Tooru had graciously reiterated over and over again to him. This type of like, Hajime was never subjected too much or too long under it.

He understood, though. He really did. He was just another high-schooler, who liked volleyballs, who joked around with his friends, who liked cooking more than he thought, who dreamed of holding the volleyball and standing on the court with his team in championships. But to people who weren’t familiar with him, he understood how he looked like, how he seemed to be.

Tall, but no more than his teammates. Looked okay, but frowned too much, looked like he was perpetually irked. Respectful, but distant. Nice, but awkward in relationships. Too serious, too obsessed with volleyballs to notice that his partner was getting further and further away from him. Too afraid to take the initiatives. Didn’t feel right, didn’t look right, wasn’t the _right one_.

So, no, Hajime wasn’t _completely_ dense about romantic adventures. He might not be the most experienced lover out there, but he knew _enough_. Enough to think that it must have felt nice to have someone who liked you softly, comfortably, completely. Enough to know that the _delicate springtime of life_ was not for him, after all.

(“You’re so stupid, Iwa-chan,” Tooru said, and sighed like Hajime had personally offended him.

“Die in fire,” he replied, and tried not to think about how earnest Tooru looked.)

* * *

The first time Hajime met Akeno Hana, all he could think about was just _cotton candy_. She looked it, too. Pale eyes, light hair, a small flower pin on the side of her bangs, and the way she had to look up, up, _up_ , when Kyoutani introduced them. She couldn’t even reach his shoulders, and Hajime had an unexplainable urge to bundle her in blankets like a small child. Maybe he spent too much time teaching children, that he automatically had that protective instinct in the face of someone with small stature like her.

“N-nice to meet you, _senpai_! I’m Akeno Hana, first year, class 1, and—and I like chicken karaage!” she… _squeaked_. There was no other word, she looked tense, and her voice was notably in higher pitch than when she introduced herself to the other players. Not a moment after she said that, she covered her mouth, face reddening at alarming speed that Hajime was worried for a moment that she’d pass out.

Laughter erupted from around them; Tooru for some reason kept hitting Hajime’s shoulders as he laughed. He flicked the wandering hand away, ignoring the “ _How mean, Iwa-chan!_ ” and smiled at her, trying to catch her eyes from their painfully acute height difference.

“Good to know that, Akeno. I’m Iwaizumi Hajime, second year, class 5, and I like agedashi tofu,” he said, trying to soothe the unnerved _kouhai_. It seemed to work out a little bit, as she finally stopped the process of turning herself into a perfect tomato imitation. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She looked like she was in disbelief for a second, and Hajime inwardly prevented himself from frowning. No need to scare the _kouhai_ even more with his infamous resting bitch face. But _then_ , she _sparkled_. Like, no joke, Hajime was at loss for words, because that was what she literally did. She sparkled; her eyes, her smile, her whole face just lighted up and she nodded enthusiastically. He just smiled back, albeit a little bit more stiff than before. He was unsure on how to proceed with how fast Akeno’s change in mood was.

“I’ll see you later, Iwaizumi- _senpai_!” she called out, and then, almost like an afterthought, “and the others too, it was really nice to meet you all!”

She waved at him excitedly, and he waved back as she turned to skip out of the gym—and promptly tripped on her own feet. Kyoutani groaned next to him, and grumbled something too low under his breath for Hajime to hear properly. Akeno, on the other hand, had stood up and looking like she wished desperately for the ground to swallow her whole.

He chuckled to himself, and shook his head. She was such a weird character, he thought, turning to resume his exercises and ignoring the obvious leer on Tooru’s face. If he could find mercy in himself, Tooru would only have to suffer through two volleyballs smashed directly on his annoying face. What was the leer about anyway? It didn’t matter, Hajime nodded to himself. Any day is as good as any to smash Tooru’s face with volleyballs.

* * *

At first, the cotton candy girl didn’t come too often to the club. She came once or twice in a week, usually with a grumbling Kyoutani in tow. She was a curious one, asking left and right about volleyballs, and whether Kyoutani was getting along fine with the others. Almost like an overbearing mother hen, Hajime thought absently one day. She reminded him of himself when he pestered the others about their well-being. She was a good friend, he decided.

Sometimes they talked, with Hajime patiently answering her questions about the technical side of the volleyball. When he asked whether she was interested in joining the girls’ volleyball club, she shook her head so fast he was afraid she’d gotten whiplash. “No, _senpai_!” she shouted, probably louder than she intended, because she looked embarrassed afterwards. “Uh, I mean, I’m just interested in knowing about it, you know? But I think I won’t be joining any club right now.”

He raised an eyebrow, wiping the sweat on the side of his face and watched as Akeno followed the movement of his hand, her mouth in a small ‘o’. He raised his eyebrows higher, a silent question to her. She looked surprised and chastised when she realized she’d been caught watching, and shook her head quickly again. Hajime chuckled, shaking his own head. Man, this girl was really something. She was probably surprised at how much he sweated. It was pretty normal for someone who just finished practice, though?

“But do you have something you’re really interested in? Might be a pointer for the clubs you can consider to join,” he suggested. He observed as her face lighted up when he asked.

“Yes! I like arts,” she told him, closing her eyes as if remembering the tender caress of something she held dear to her heart. “I’ve been interested in arts and making my own designs these past few years. I’m serious about it, too, _senpai_!” she scrunched her nose and eyebrows, as if to show him she was “ _serious_ ”. It made her looked like a constipated child instead, and he tried not to laugh—afraid she’d misunderstood. “I dream about being an illustrator one day. I can show you my arts sometimes, if you want?”

Despite the comedic face she made just now, she did seem pretty serious about it. Hajime could see it in her eyes. He saw it in the eyes of his teammates, his volleyball colleagues, seen it in his own eyes in the mirror. He offered her an encouraging smile. “Yeah, I’d like to see it sometimes.”

“Me too! I want to see Hana-chan’s arts too!”

Akeno jumped in her place, eyes widening before she relaxed when she realized it was just Tooru. Weird. Tooru had been here the whole time, and she only noticed now? This girl might even be more of a scatterbrain than he thought.

“Oh, Oikawa-san,” she greeted him with a cheery smile, as per usual. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you were there.”

“Of course you won’t, I’m just old, boring Oikawa-san, after all,” Tooru whined, feigning hurt on his face. “I’m nothing compared to the great Iwa-chan.”

He slapped the back of the moron’s head. “Stop teasing her, shittykawa.”

Tooru wailed at him, and Akeno laughed at their banter. Things went on like that each time she came to the club. She’d greet him, they’d talk for a while, and then Tooru would swoop into the conversation like a vulture. Other than that, Hajime paid her no mind and focused on practices instead. He had to admit that talking to her wasn’t half bad, though.

Even if she had the habit of watching him do mundane things, got embarrassed when she got caught, and then forgot about it and got carried away in conversations she was interested in. Aside from that, it was quite fun seeing Tooru repeatedly being forgotten by Akeno and had to forcefully insert himself into the conversation.

Gradually, though, she came more and more often around the club, to the point that everyone recognized and remembered her as ‘Kyoutani’s only friend’ and ‘that clumsy girl’. It wasn’t without reason as well. She hit her head on the door jamb, slipped on the floor even if literally nothing was there, dropped her newly-opened sandwich, and numerous other small incidents that made Hajime think that either she really was that clumsy, or she just had terrible luck. This past two months alone, Hajime had to grab her five times to prevent her from slipping and hitting the floor.

She always thanked him profusely for that, and it wasn’t like Hajime mind helping her. It was just—she just—each time she thanked him, she _sparkled_ again, like the first time they met and she flashed that sparkling smile and eyes at him. It made him awkward and unsure on how to respond because it was so painfully earnest and sweet. Hajime wasn’t used to this kind of response from people, and definitely wasn’t used getting this kind of response from people just from simple favors.

“You don’t have to thank me that much, you know,” he said one day, absentmindedly munching on his homemade bento. Recently, they ate lunch together. Sometimes Kyoutani was there, sometimes Hanamaki and Yahaba joined them. But most of the time, it was only the three of them—Hajime, Akeno, and Tooru. For some reason, Tooru always insisted on joining _and_ refusing to bring his own lunch. He complained that no one at home cooked for him because everyone was busy, but didn’t want to buy lunch either because he “ _also wants to eat homemade bento! It’s not fair that only you guys eat homemade bentos, it’s like I’m not invited to the date!”_ he would whine, and for some reason, it made Akeno choke and cough. Hajime was worried she’d actually choke on her vegetables because her face looked horribly red afterwards. He should tell her to chew more thoroughly. In the end, though, Hajime relented and made him some as well.

“Um?” she replied intelligently, cheeks bulging from her food as she looked up questioningly at him, round eyes clueless and so akin to cotton candy that Hajime thought for a moment whether he had some cravings he wasn’t aware about.

He grinned at the funny sight, and slapped Tooru’s hand away from his squid. “By now everyone is aware you will trip on air, so no need to thank me like I saved the country every time I helped. I’m just glad you didn’t fall and hit your head,” he explained.

She gulped down her food, and seemed to consider his words. A moment later, she looked at him and smiled, “I thanked you like that, because I don’t just feel thankful that you saved me from kissing the floor, you know. But also because I’m reminded that you care enough to do it repeatedly. I’m glad that you pay attention to me, _senpai_.” she flashed him a small grin, and Hajime felt heats rose on his cheeks for unfathomable reason. This girl was quite blunt sometimes, despite being easily embarrassed.

“I see…” he mumbled, and looked away from the blinding grin. Unconsciously, he felt his lips forming a smile, too. “I’m glad we’re getting along well.”

“Yeah,” Tooru piped in. “I’m really glad _we_ are getting along well.”

As per usual, Akeno jumped in her seat, and almost choked herself to death with her rice. She coughed violently, hitting her chest as her eyes watered and her small face reddened. Hajime reached out to help patting her back, and passed her a drink. She shot him a sweet smile in return, despite the tears, and heaved out a relieved sigh after the catastrophe was averted.

“Are you okay?” they both asked her, worried their young friend was going to die on the school ground.

“Oikawa- _senpai_!” she greeted cheerfully, albeit a little bit worse for the wear as she was still coughing a little. “I’m sorry, I was just surprised to see you. I didn’t notice you there, I’m sorry!” she half-bowed from her current position, and the sight was so awkward and funny that Hajime had to hide a laugh behind a fist.

“That’s okay, Hana-chan,” Tooru replied, then put on his best dramatic expression. “I’m used to not being noticed by you. Ah, to be so forgettable that I’m no more than mere air next to Iwa-chan…”

“I-it’s not like that, Oikawa-san!” she quickly refuted, both of her palms waving back and forth in quick succession. “I’m sorry! I’ll try to pay more attention!”

Tooru laughed then, hitting Hajime’s knees, and getting hit on the back of his head in return.

All in all, it wasn’t… bad, per se, to be acquainted and befriend Akeno Hana, despite her quirks and several things she did that he completely didn’t understand about.

Of course, Tooru _had_ to ruin it.

“You smile more around her, you know?” he said one day, as they were lazing around in Hajime’s house. He was lying on Hajime’s bed, reading Hajime’s sport magazine, and acted like he owned the damned place. Sometimes he truly wondered why he even bothered keeping his friendship with this shitty bastard for years on end.

“Who?” he asked, because he didn’t get what Tooru was trying to say.

Tooru grinned, heaved himself up, and looked at him with mirth and nothing resembling goodness in his eyes. “Hana-chan. You two are so chummy-chummy these days, huh?”

He frowned. “We’re not, and stop using ‘chummy’, you sound like a disgusting old man.”

“I was about to give you advices because you’re too much of a blockhead about romance, and here I am, getting attacked,” he sighed, putting a hand over his heart. “Iwa-chan, I’m hurt.”

He didn’t even bother deigning him with a reply, just flipped him off and continued reading his notes. They had assignments due tomorrow, and he had been postponing it because of practices. He was pretty sure Tooru didn’t even remember they had an assignment in the first place, and would whine about it to him in the morning.

“No, for real though,” Tooru pushed on. Hajime sighed; he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus until Tooru finished whatever he wanted to say. “You seem to be more relaxed around her. She could be good for you, Hajime. Not to mention how much she adores you. It’s almost painful to see the blatant admiration in her eyes.”

“She is nice,” he conceded. “But don’t start spouting non-sense, she probably sticks to me because I’m the only one around who got the time explaining things she asked about. You guys spend too much time teasing her; Kyoutani is obviously out of the question. It would be a wonder if he ever got interested in anything long enough but to serve as aggressively as possible.”

Tooru sighed again, intentionally louder this time, as he flopped back on the mattress. “And you said you’re not dense,” he grumbled. “Whatever. If you ever ended up alone and brittle when you’re old, don’t come crying to me.”

Hajime grunted noncommittally, and stared back at his book. He still couldn’t focus, though, even long after Tooru had shut up. Akeno Hana was nice. She was cheerful, painfully earnest and terribly clumsy. She paid attention to him, and seemed to be sincere every time they talked. She also seemed to be interested in volleyball—as in, an actual interest instead of polite, meaningless inquiries or a passing interest, even if she claimed that she didn’t want to join the club—and that was good enough to be on Hajime’s good list.

Did he really seem to be more open around her, or was Tooru just bullshitting him as usual? Whatever, thinking about Tooru or Akeno Hana wouldn’t help him understand this theory. He could ponder about it any other day, if he didn’t completely forget.

* * *

He didn’t forget. It stuck with him, against all odd. He blamed Tooru entirely for this.

Akeno regularly came to the club around three to four times a week. Sometimes she stayed for long, sometimes she just came by to say hi. They ate their lunch together every day now, and the more she talked with that honest, excitable way of hers, Hajime found himself wondering more and more.

He did pay attention to her, and if he had to be honest he was genuinely interested to what she had to say. He found that his initial remark of her being a weird character, was slowly morphing into something endearing instead of raised-brow worthy. He got used to her clumsiness, and other forms of misfortune that seemed to surround her in abundance, despite the comedic timing of it. It had been some times now since he knew her, and he found that he actually _cared_ about her to the point of remembering things she said; things she said she liked, things she thought were important to her, things she held dear to her heart.

“There was this bunny plushy, _senpai_ ,” she started one day, munching on her lunch. It was tuna sandwich this time; he reckoned she didn’t have time to prepare for bentos today. She always brought one, usually. “On this machine crane,” she said that as if it had personally offended her and her ancestors, “and it doesn’t matter how many times I tried, I keep failing! It’s really frustrating! But I really want it! Ah, what should I do?”

She finished her tirade with a dejected face, and Hajime blurted out, “We can try getting it sometimes, maybe two people’s luck is better than one.”

Her face brightened in an instant, and he suddenly had the urge to shield his eyes from how sunny her face was. He didn’t know what prompted him to say that, or why he even bothered to offer. Sure, he didn’t mind going to the arcade, it had been some time, after all. But to go out of his way specifically, just because she looked so sad about it, was not something he could reconcile with his usual self.

“I wanna join too!” Tooru exclaimed, head popping up on Hajime’s shoulder, and this time, he jumped along with Akeno. Huh. He was too caught up in Akeno’s rambling and his own thought to notice that Tooru was there.

“Oikawa-san, hello!” greeted the _kouhai_. “Um… I guess an apology won’t do anything, since I keep not noticing you there. But I’m sorry!”

The boy laughed and waved her off. He sent teasing glances at Hajime, and he closed his eyes, praying to whatever God was listening to give him strength and patience to face this asshole he called his best friend.

“Nah, I’m joking,” Tooru cajoled. “I have something to do today anyway. You two have fun!”

They did, have fun. They spent hours on the crane, and Hajime watched with increasing fascination and horror how the cheery, sweet Akeno turned into someone so different in the face of frustration. She kept feeding money to the machine without hesitation, and he briefly wondered if she kept bringing bentos because this was where all her pocket money went into. At the end, they finally gave up on the crane and decided to soothe their nerves (and wallet) by playing other games. Akeno went home with a big bag full of goods from the crane and other stuffs they won from the arcade, and Hajime went home feeling more happy and confused than he had ever felt in his entire life.

“It had been so long since I last eat chicken karaage,” Akeno said another day. She brought her own bento today, but she was chewing on her salmon with such dejected face that something in Hajime twinge and twitched with something he faintly recognized.

“Mhm,” he hummed absently, looking at the soccer field as Akeno apologized profusely to Tooru and Hanamaki for not noticing them earlier. “Must be nice to eat it once in a while.”

The next day, he stared at the big bowl of chicken karaage he made impulsively this morning. It was enough to feed the whole house for two days. He sighed, and got a second bento box from the shelf. It wouldn’t do to waste them, and he knew exactly who would appreciate some spontaneously made chicken karaage.

When he gave the box of bento to Akeno, there was something akin to wonder in her eyes. The same sparkle that he saw on the first day they met. When she opened it, however, the sparkle just went into a full-blown imitation of the damned _sun_. She just—she looked so happy that she almost _vibrated_ with it. This was probably the happiest Hajime had ever seen someone to be when he gave them something.

“Thank—thank you _senpai_ ,” she said, lips wobbling and, to his horror, started crying. He tried, futilely, to calm her down, but the tears kept falling. “No, no, _senpai_. I-I’m just so happy that you gave me this, it’s—it’s my favorite food, and—and your chicken karaage is—so good—“

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, smiling and rubbing the top of her head as she tried her best to stop the sniffle. “Thank you for the compliment, but I guess it would be better to eat it without crying. Might taste a little bit saltier with all those tears, you know?”

She gave a wet laugh, and hiccupped a little bit. But she still looked endearingly joyous about such a simple thing, and it warmed his heart to see it.

“Damn, Iwa-chan, I didn’t know your chicken karaage is that good,” Tooru hummed thoughtfully, startling Akeno and made her rub her face vigorously to erase any trace of tears. It didn’t do much, though. Her red-rimmed eyes, reddened cheeks and nose just gave it all away. “Did you give a different one to Hana-chan than the one you gave to me? I knew it! You are _so_ unfair, Iwa-chan!”

“Shut the fuck up, asskawa, words come out of your mouth but they sound like garbage,” he deadpanned, face flat.

Akeno laughed, a little bit more cheerful than the last, and Tooru promptly faked crying. “Abuse! This is abuse! I’m _hurt_ , Iwa-chan!”

Hajime laughed along with Akeno, and thought that maybe, _just maybe_ , Tooru was right. This could be the peak of his delicate springtime in life. Maybe Tooru wasn’t so full of trash, after all.

(Though he wouldn’t admit it under the threat of torture. Some things were better kept as secrets from an amazingly annoying—and at times considerate—man like Tooru Oikawa, Hajime decided.)

* * *

The revelation didn’t start out like a _bang_ for Hajime. Instead of the explosive realization, it felt much, much softer before building up into an exhilarating crescendo.

It started with this:

Akeno Hana’s favorite food was chicken karaage. She liked it extra crispy for some reason, and always looks like she was about to burst into tears whenever she ate it. She actually shed a tear when she ate Hajime’s karaage, and it made Hajime worried and felt an inexplicable joy in his chest.

He didn’t know her hometown, didn’t know her grades, didn’t know her exact height, didn’t know her favorite color, and didn’t know whether she liked her eggs scrambled or sunny side up in the morning. But he _did_ know that she bled with her art, smiled like she could lit the whole town, and had an obsession with crane games that was bordering on unhealthy. She was terribly, laughably scared of ghosts; easily distracted, and easily entertained. She wore her heart on her sleeves, and would blindly give everything she had for the people she cared about.

She was—she was such a small, bundle of mess filled with joy and sincerity and Hajime—

Hajime felt like he finally came up for air after being held underwater for so long. The rush of relief and euphoria, the elation of this discovery that battled with creeping uncertainty. The first breath that warmed his lungs and it was hard to breathe for a moment, but he had never felt more alive than this moment.

He sat up, eyes wide, the tip of his fingers trembling as they gripped the sheets tight. _I like her_ , he thought, and felt almost giddy with joy. _I like her_ , he thought, and felt his stomach twisted with fear and anxiety.

“ _I like her_ ,” he typed, and pressed send before his nerves could fail him. The embarrassment was creeping hard and fast all over him, and he tamped the urge to scream and forced himself to breathe.

“ _Took you long enough_ ,” Oikawa replied a second later. “ _Congratulation, you’re officially a simp now._ ”

“ _Shut the fuck up trashykawa_.”

* * *

The days afterwards were _painfully_ awkward for Hajime, and he was pretty sure everyone was cringing at how stiff and jumpy he was around Akeno after that. Akeno didn’t seem to mind, though, albeit looking a little bit confused at his weird demeanor. Apparently, she just chalked it up to him suddenly contracting weird sickness.

“Are you sure you’re well enough for practice, _senpai_?” she asked the first time it happened. She looked worried, her hand hovering as if she wanted to check his temperature, but was probably too short to reach out for his forehead.

He lowered his shoulders without words, slumping so she could reach it and check for herself. She smiled at him and put her palm against her forehead, then frowned, looking adorably focused in deducting his non-existent sickness.

“Hmm,” she pondered, tapping her foot on the floorboard. “You don’t have fever, and you don’t seem like you’re sick either, honestly. But you’re so jumpy, _senpai_! Are you nervous about something? Is it the spring tournament? You still have time to practice more; it’s going to be alright. And I’m sure you’d be doing great, too. I believe in you, Iwaizumi- _senpai_.”

It wasn’t about the exams, of course, but Hajime nodded at her nonetheless, silently enjoying her fussing about his health and taking a few moments to himself to feel grateful that someone cared this much. He still didn’t know exactly what the protocol was after you realized you liked someone, but he was pretty sure that getting more and more enamored by said person was one of it. If he was wrong, well, Akeno Hana did bring several surprises in his life, he could do by following her example.

It got better, eventually. The stiffness and awkward interaction, but the heartbeats and the warmth in his face every time he found her doing something incredibly endearing didn’t exactly go away. But honestly, he thought, as Akeno laughed at something stupid Tooru said, her cheeks red and eyes full of mirth, he didn’t mind. He could get used to this delicate springtime of life.

* * *

There were days that felt like Akeno; soft, airy cotton candy days filled with wondering eyes and quick-silver heartbeats. Where his hands trembled with the confusion of wanting to hold Akeno’s hand or to punch the wall because he was too overwhelmed by her.

But, there were also days when Hajime felt like he ached so deep within his marrow. The cramp from their latest bout of harsh practices, the looming threat of competitions, the painful anxiety of losing, of not being able to play a little bit longer— _just a little bit more—_

For people like Tobio, like Ushijima, even Tooru, the ache must have been filled to the brim with growth and potentials. But for Hajime, it felt like bone deep weariness and fear. That it wasn’t enough, that he didn’t try hard enough, that eventually, he wouldn’t be able to catch up no matter how hard he worked for it. He was neither the gifted nor the talented. All he had was his love for volleyballs, and the stubborn, unmoving desire of reaching the pinnacle of championships with his team.

On those days, he smiled less, hit the balls harder than ever, took every cramp and ache in his muscles. He came early, went home the last. On those days, there was nothing he would like to do but scream, and practice until his legs give out; nothing but staying away from everyone and curl up and cry. The juxtaposing needs made him tired, so tired.

Tooru knew, of course he knew. On those days, he gave as good as he could; teased less, and pacified the other members when they were worried about Hajime’s unusual walls he erected around him. They all got used to it, in the end, letting him vent out his frustrations instead of coddling him. Joked around and acted like he didn’t run himself to the ground just the day before. They didn’t ask, because there were certain things that couldn’t be shared unless they were awake in the middle of the night, or too tired to pay attention properly after a rigorous training camp.

Akeno Hana brought a change to that—abruptly, with her brand of awkwardness and earnest intention.

When everyone else had left, she waited in the gym for him, sitting on the polished floor with a terrifying focus on her delicate face. Hajime almost jumped in surprise when he realized that he wasn’t alone. The irritation was fast to catch up to him. Tooru really needed something to gag his stupidly big mouth. A fist, preferably.

As if reading the hard lines on his face, Hana shook her head and talked first to soother his fraying nerves. “No one told me, they wouldn’t. No one sells you out, Iwaizumi- _senpai_. Although, they’re as worried as I am. I just—“ she hesitated, and Hajime let out a long sigh. It wouldn’t do anything to snap at her just because she was on the wrong place, at the wrong time.

He reached for his bottle of water and towel, and sat next to her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t mad at you. Things are just… difficult for me sometimes,” he said. He didn’t know why he bothered explaining this to her. He never did, not even to Tooru; not even to his mom, though she probably understood anyway. Maybe it was the way Hana just showed to him that she perceived and paid attention more than anyone thought, maybe it was the patience he saw in her eyes, maybe it was because—

_Oh, God,_ he thought, heaving a deep sigh that suspiciously wavered at the end. He was _tired_ , he was so tired. Worrying about his passion, the continuation of his education, his career path—it all built up inside his chest, and in days like these, he couldn’t rationalize it, couldn’t clear his head enough to control his mind and emotions.

Hana nodded, and took the box of something that he assumed was a bento. She unwrapped the cloth covering, and he noticed, out of his will, that her hands was delicate, pretty. Acutely in contrast with his calloused, blistered hands. He wanted to try holding her hands, he thought, and shook his head to banish the thought away. Hana didn’t seem to notice, thankfully.

“I, uh, I made this,” she started, sounding shy and proud. “I remembered that you mentioned you like these, and—and you made me chicken karaage too when I was sad. I wanted to help you too, _senpai_. But I don’t know if I can do something that actually counts, so I thought—maybe at least I can cheer you up with these?”

Hajime looked over, and was stunned to silence. On the red bento box, alongside the regular assortments, were agedashi tofu that glazed so beautifully Hajime was reminded of his hunger. But above the dish, and the fact that he hadn’t eaten since lunch, the fact that she remembered, that she _cared_ enough to try to cheer him up with this—Hajime swallowed, his throat felt dry all of the sudden. He forgot how to speak, for a moment.

“I—“ he croaked out, and was startled to realize that his eyes were watering. She must have been puzzled as to why he looked like he was about to cry right now, because she suddenly rambled in frantic manner, gesticulating with her hands as her small face scrunched up in worry and panic.

“Of course you don’t have to eat these if you don’t want to, _senpai_!” she hurried to explain. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude or to patronize! I swear, I just—“ she bit her lip, and looked at him with pale, pleading eyes. “I just wanted to help. Please, let me help, Iwaizumi- _senpai_.”

He managed a small smile, and took the bento from her hands; felt an electric current ran through his fingers when they brushed against hers. “No, this is more than enough, Akeno. Really,” he said, when Hana still looked unconvinced, “you’ve helped a lot by just being here.”

And that might be too honest, contained more implications than what Hajime would be willing to admit right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it back or play it off as something mundane when Hana flashed him the most _brilliant_ smile, happiness etched into the creases around her eyes. He smiled back, stronger, more sincere this time. They were silent after that, but it didn’t feel stifling. Just a comfortable silence to fill in the scant inches of distance between them.

On days like these, Hajime usually wore himself out until he couldn’t think, couldn’t stay awake long enough to let the fear consumed him. But this, he thought as he looked over to Hana’s still smiling face, it felt nice, too.

* * *

Hana confessed, out of the blue. Or not so much out of the blue for literally everyone.

It seemed like, Akeno still had one last surprise for him. The biggest, most unexpected surprise that actually felt like a massive, enormous _bang_ in Hajime’s heart: a confession.

(Or maybe, _just maybe_ , Hajime was too busy being conflicted with himself, too busy being enamored by Akeno Hana’s soft, sunny, enveloping charm, to notice that once again, Tooru was right. Hajime really _was_ too dense about romance.)

At first it was like any other day. Of course, it wasn’t any other day. In his defense, Hajime rarely ever got the chance to marvel and enjoy the full extent of Valentine’s Day. Mostly because Valentine had no business at all in the volleyball court. It didn’t matter whether the whole school was in tizzy from the hormone buzz, if coach said lapped until they collapsed, then they’d lapped until they collapsed—Valentine’s Day or not.

Which was probably why Hajime didn’t suspected anything when Akeno walked alongside him, wrapped in her winter uniform and a pink scarf. It suited her, he thought, glancing down at the top of her head. She seemed… nervous. Or maybe she was just cold. She insisted on coming with him to the club, and it was pretty early in the morning. Maybe he could offer her his jacket, too? Yeah, he could do that.

When he opened his mouth to offer, however, Akeno ran ahead of him, before stopping, and extending something on both hands. For a moment, the world stopped. Hajime lost the words forming on his lips as he stared, open-mouthed, at the small, blue box in her gloved hand. She was bowing, her hair falling into curtains and hid the majority of her face, her voice though was as clear as the sun after a rainy day.

“I like you, Iwaizumi- _senpai_!”

For a heart-stopping second, there was nothing but the faint sound of the students in the distance; the echo of Akeno’s confession ringing in his mind; his accelerating heartbeat beating drums in his ears. He stood there, stock still, too shocked to wrap his head around the situation. Did Akeno… just say that she liked him? Like, the girl who had been charming him left and right and leaving him feeling warm and fuzzy, was actually here, offering him a box of chocolate, and confessing to him? What?

Unfortunately, his mouth only caught up with the last part. “Uh,” he croaked out, hesitant, bewildered, overwhelmed. “What?”

Akeno looked up then, and Hajime suddenly had the epiphany that her reddened face since they met this morning wasn’t just from cold. But because she was holding this in. She looked—afraid, but determined.

“I fell in love with you since the first time we met, _senpai_ ,” she said, her voice wavering for a little bit, before strengthening. “I have heard things about you from Kyoutani, but the first time we met, I was immediately taken by your charm. You were so kind even when I was embarrassing myself, you were patient with me, you helped me a lot, you paid attention to me, and you—“ she stopped to take in a breath, and powered through, as though if she didn’t get this out right here, right now, she wouldn’t be able to let out everything in her chest. Her eyes were bright with affection and determination and shyness, but her next words carried on without a hitch.

“You made me feel welcomed. You made me feel accepted and protected, cared for and cherished. I’m so happy when you asked me about things I like, when you mean it, when you hold me as I tripped, when we played together in the arcade. Every day we ate our lunch together, I felt the happiest because I could sit by your side and get to know you more. I’m thankful, that you let me know you in return, and that you trust me enough to open up to me.” There was a small smile playing on the curve of her lips, almost shy, full of happiness as she recalled her memories of them together. “I—I know that there are other girls who you like better than me, but _senpai_ , I, too, wanted to shine in your eyes because in mine, you are the only one I’ve ever had the eyes for.”

Their breaths puffed out in small rush of fog, eyes wide as they stared at each other. Hajime, every so slowly, took the box of chocolate from her hands, and stared at it in amazement. Akeno’s previous words played in continuous repeat inside his head. He was—surprised, extremely so. But his chest felt so warm, despite the weather. It was just that he didn’t know what to say, didn’t trust himself enough to talk properly.

Akeno must have translated his silence into objection, because she seemed even more flustered than before, and her words started to jumble together. “And! I just thought—I thought, I wanted _senpai_ to know about my feelings. Because they feel like they’re about to burst from my chest. Like—like a soda pop! I just wanted you to know, that I like you, _senpai_! And that you are very precious to me, and I’m thankful for all your helps as well, and that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. So—so um—oh my god, what am I doing—“ she squeaked at herself, and looked up at Hajime with pleading eyes. “so—I just want to say—I like you so much, Iwaizumi- _senpai_.”

When Hajime _still_ didn’t move, or say anything, Akeno visible gulped, and grinned stiffly. “Um, anyway. That’s all I wanted to say.” She laughed, awkward and very much still high on nervous energy. “Have a nice valentine!”

As she left him, he could faintly hear her murmur, “a nice valentine? Does that even make sense? Stupid Hana!” as she hit her head with her hand. Hajime took a long ass minute standing there, looking at her retreating back, and back to the box that he was pretty sure contained chocolates on his hand.

Everything was happening too fast for him to comprehend, and it almost felt like a dream. But it wasn’t. It didn’t feel so. Because the weight of the box was real, and Akeno’s swaying hair was still in his sight as she left, and the warmth that slowly spread inside him despite the coldness on his face was very much real. This wasn’t a dream. Akeno had _actually_ confessed to him. As in, she _liked_ him.

“Oh my Gods,” he whispered out brokenly after long minutes just staring at the spot where Akeno disappeared. “Oh my Gods she likes me too. Holy shit.”

The revelation, the sudden intensity of happiness, the giddiness that made him lost his breath. Hajime laughed, in disbelief and slightly hysteric because—he just couldn’t believe it. She liked him, as in _liked_ him. . A romantic type of like, the one with fast heartbeats and the unbearable urge to hold their hands, or spend time with them, or smiling when they talked excitedly about their passion. The type of like that now had become one of the spotlights in his delicate springtime of life.

And _then_ , he realized that for the entirety of the confession, he just stood there looking like a dead fish. “Oh my Gods,” he groaned, frustrated and panicked. He hoped Akeno didn’t make the wrong assumption. But then again, she might have. He didn’t even deign her with any answer whatsoever. Which, was fair. She didn’t ask him out or anything back there. So… so it was fine right? Right, it was fine that he didn’t answer because there was never a question to begin with. She just confessed her feelings, and then—and then Hajime could talk to her about his feelings too, and maybe then, _he_ could ask her out. Yeah, sure, he could do that. He just needed to calm down first, and tried to wipe the giddy grin on his face.

* * *

(He didn’t meet Akeno for the rest of the day, but Tooru had seen the box of chocolate in his bag, and was so insufferably smug that Hajime _had_ to punch him. He ate the chocolate at home. It was a tad bitter—she probably took the wrong type of chocolate—but it warmed his heart nonetheless.)

* * *

Akeno didn’t come to the club anymore after that. She avoided him in the hallways, didn’t come to their usual lunch time, didn’t reply to his messages, didn’t pick up his calls, even Kyoutani was at loss. Hajime was, to say the least, panicking. No, it wasn’t right, he was an absolute wreck.

He was worried about it to the point of considering just ambushing her after classes, but she would just squeak and run as she did these past few weeks. The other players had been asking about her, too.  
“Did you guys get into a fight?” they asked, or something like, “There’s finally a problem in the paradise, huh?” which would get a glare from Hajime, typically. He couldn’t exactly tell them that it wasn’t a fight; it was a confession, which was mutual, but they both were too dumb to deal with it properly.

It went on for about a month, before Hajime finally snapped, and turned to Tooru.

That motherfucker laughed. Of course he did. He spent his sweet ass time rolling on Hajime’s mattress, after eating Hajime’s cookies, laughing at Hajime’s misery. It hadn’t even been five minutes and Hajime had regretted this decision, very much so.

“So, in conclusion, she confessed to you, but was too nervous to ask you out and just hightailed it out of there?” Tooru asked, after calming down and wiping tears from his eyes.

“Yeah,” he replied curtly, frustrated and was five seconds away from throwing Tooru out of the window.

“And you were so shocked that you didn’t even say anything? And then you just stupidly thought she’d come around after that?”

He wanted to punch Tooru for that, but in the end, he just conceded with a defeated, “Yeah.”

Tooru exploded into another bout of obnoxious laughter. “Oh my Gods!” he wailed, “oh my Gods, Hajime, this is precious! I can’t believe it!” he dissolved into another giggle, as Hajime groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. He should have never asked Tooru, this just increased his blood pressure and made him consider murder.

Finally, though, Tooru took a pity on him, and said, “Iwa-chan, hana-chan is a simple girl, you know? She likes cute and cool things, she forgets anyone else is in the room when she talks to you, she cries eating your bentos, and she makes you handmade chocolate on valentine. You don’t need grand gestures, just give back what she gave to you—sincerity and clear affection.”

Hajime was stunned for a moment. He actually half-expected Tooru to joke about this and didn’t actually give a useful advice. But he was surprised yet again. He considered it for a moment, and Tooru left him to it after some more teasings.

Something simple, something she liked, and something he knew meant a lot to her. For the first time in weeks, Hajime might have a clue about what he should do. He just hoped that he was right, that it would be enough to win Akeno back.

* * *

It was almost six in the morning, and Hajime barely slept a wink last night. He stared at the ceiling in his room hard enough to make himself dizzy, as if he could drill a hole through it. After spending ungodly hours at the arcade yesterday, and quite possibly losing his pocket money for two weeks and several blood vessels from anger and frustration at the crane machine, he finally got the god forsaken thing that thought— _wished_ —would help him and his ironically comedic, disastrous, wonderful crush on Akeno Hana.

He managed to sleep at ten, and then woke up at one am, thinking about ugly things that might transpire when he confessed. He tried to calm himself down, but the thoughts of _what if she lost interest, what if she got heartbroken, what if she—_ kept him wide awake until 4 in the morning. Finally, the memories of spending time with her, the soft curve of her smile, the shine in her eyes when she talked about arts and her dream, the way she looked so sincere, so pretty on the day she confessed, calmed his nerves down. Enough to catch a little bit of sleep.

It didn’t last long, though. He was sleep deprived, was running on nervous energy, and his stomach felt like a knife had been twisted into it. When he finally couldn’t take it, he took his phone from the charging station, and, before he could lose the short burst of bravery, dialed Akeno’s numbers. He knew that girl had a habit of running late to school. This might the only time when she wouldn’t be aware enough to reject his call.

As he predicted, the call connected, and Akeno’s groggy voice greeted him from the other side. She sounded like a child abruptly woken up from a nap. It was cute, but Hajime wasn’t going to be distracted by cute things. Regardless if the said cute things came from the very person he liked. Whom he was going to confess to. Today. In just a moment. Oh Gods, he wanted to throw up.

Instead, he strengthened his resolve, and said, “Go get ready. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Akeno sounded more awake then, cautious. “But… why, _senpai_?”

Why indeed. But Hajime couldn’t just back off now. He didn’t want to. A month filled with uncertainty about their relationship and the abrupt absence of Akeno in his life, was enough to fill his courage. He didn’t want to go through that again. “I really need to see you, Akeno.”

There was a soft hitch of breath, and then Akeno’s trembling voice. “Y-yeah—uh, I mean, yes, I’ll get ready. Um, take care on your way here, _senpai_.”

Akeno was already waiting on the front porch when he got there. She looked nervous, but there was a hesitant happiness that peeked through her pale eyes. Her mom waved at him from the door jam, and he bowed, nervous and awkward all at once. They parted with a knowing look from her, and walked to the nearest bus stop that Akeno usually took.

They walked side by side in silence, the both of them too nervous to break the tension between them. It was as if they were waiting on the edge, and Hajime felt like throwing up again. Even playing in tournaments didn’t feel nerve-wracking, even if both the tournaments and Akeno Hana were just as important to him.

Akeno was the first to break the silence, however, by tripping on the side of the road, _over nothing_. Hajime’s quick reflexes prevented her from falling over and scraped her knees on the pavement, and she shot him a grateful smile. “Thank you, _senpai_.”

And maybe it was the familiarity, of holding her like this when she was about to fall, of the words he hadn’t heard in a month, of the smile he hadn’t seen much these days, that he just blurted out, “you’re so clumsy. If you got any clumsier than this, you might trip and lose your head, you know?”

Akeno, affronted, choked on air and replied, “Hey!”

He chuckled, and straightened her up. He started walking again, and Akeno followed his lead. Still looking ahead, he started pouring his heart out, so his gut could finally stop twisting, and his heart could finally calm itself down, and he could breathe once the truth was out.

“You’re so clumsy, and you easily got lost if someone didn’t hold your hand. You’re such a crybaby, and sometimes you’re either embarrassed too easily, or entirely too shameless. You look adorable either way.” Next to him, Akeno let out the trademark squeak of protest.

“You have no sense of personal space, and yet I like it when you’re close. Your eyes look the prettiest when you talk about your art; I just realized that you give your whole attention to me when I talk—and I like that as well. You always wake up late, you got these crazy eyes whenever you’re playing crane games, you cook well but you suck at making confectionaries. You are such a mess of genuine feeling and wonder, and I like you too much to even think about a proper confession.”

Next to him, Akeno had stopped walking completely, and instead was staring at him with wide, wide eyes. So he turned, and smiled, and said, “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure this out,” he pulled out the item from his pocket, and keeping his fist close around it, he offered it in front of her. “Happy white valentine,” he said. “I got this for you, and you better like it because I didn’t just spend my time torturing myself in that cursed machine, and not getting a wink of sleep because I was too nervous.”

“Too nervous for what?” Akeno finally spoke after being shocked still for so long.

“To ask you out, of course,” he said, and it felt so easy, sliding off his lips in light cadence. It felt alarmingly natural on his tongue, like it waited his whole life to reach this delicate springtime of life to finally say it. “Instead of, you know, running away after the confession.”

At that, Akeno finally snapped out of the trance and pouted at him. Even pouting like that she still looked unfairly cute. Hajime was indeed going insane. _Simp_ , he faintly heard Tooru’s voice whispered viciously in his head, complete with the shit-eating grin.

“Hey! It’s not nice to embarrass people like that!” she yelled, high pitched and patting her cheeks to alleviate some heat. They looked appropriately reddened. “I was nervous, okay. You know I do stupid things when I’m nervous, _senpai_ ,” she whined, and he chuckled low.

He stepped closer to her, and slowly, carefully, brought his hands to where Akeno’s were and wrapped them around bunny plushy he had tried so hard to get, her soft smiles in mind every time he failed to get it. Hana’s eyes widened, pale irises recognizing the object in her hands immediately, and held back a sob as she realized that Hajime remembered. “So, how about it? Will you go out with me? I promise I’ll make you karaage any time you like, and I made really good confectionaries, and you can steal all my jackets as you like and we can get you all the bunny plushies in the world and—“

And Akeno was laughing, crying, taking the bunny plushy from his hands and rushed forward to envelope him in the tiniest, warmest hug he had ever received in his whole life. “Yes,” he heard her saying, then, more clearly than ever, like a ringing bell in the foggy morning, “yes, I’ll go out with you, Iwaizumi- _senpai_!”

And really, if people looked at them weird because they were hugging on the side of the road, crying and sniffling and giggling like middle school girls, Hajime could honestly give less than half a shit, because he was too busy wrapping his head around the unfathomable happiness that filled his heart to the brim. Oikawa was going to be insufferably smug, Hajime was too happy to even feel frustrated though.

Because they were shyly holding hands on their way to the bus stop, the bunny plushy safely strapped to Akeno’s bag, and her smile was bright enough to light the whole world. Hajime’s world, at least. And as he looked at her, smiling softly at the radiant joy on every line of her face, he felt his heart beat so loud he could hear it in his ears. Like his feelings and happiness and sheer force of affection for Hana was about to burst.

Like a soda pop.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! It has been quite long since I made an octp with these types of archetype, and I'm enjoying the experience of writing things that I don't usually write. Thank you mba Hana for commissioning me! I'll see you later, take care!


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